Mischief Under The Mistletoe

by Maren Smith

  “We were going to go ice skating. Do you want to forego that? You’re going to get a nasty punishment, Adelaide,” Mrs. Flores said, not unkindly.

  I nodded. “I know. But, my stomach is in a million knots. I’d rather just get it over with.”

  “Very well then. Finish up your shake, and I’ll pay the bill,” Mr. Flores said.

  He flagged down the server and handed him his credit card without even asking for a bill.

  I forced the shake down even though every sip felt like it was going to make me puke.

  The walk back to the chalet was silent. I wondered which of them was going to administer the punishment. Would it be worse than Mrs. Flores’ hairbrush? Should I share all of the lies I’d told them since they arrived? I didn’t know why it was so important to me, but I really wanted to start our relationship on a totally clean slate. No lies.

  As we walked into the elevator, I cleared my throat. “Umm... I need to say something. I really like you guys. I know we only just met, but I feel more comfortable with you than I have with anybody in a long time. And... Umm... I may have told more than one lie since we met.”

  Their faces exhibited no surprise.

  “I hadn’t changed the sheets on the bed when you moved in. I love steak and anything gourmet. My parents actually spent a long time looking for me and really want me to come home, but I hate living with them. And... I don’t remember if I told you any other lies. But, I don’t want to lie to you guys. I want you to trust me, and I want to trust you.”

  We stepped off at the top floor. The Floreses didn’t say anything, just ushered me into the suite and onto the chair by the couch again.

  They sat facing me and just stared for a solid ten seconds.

  Laughing nervously, I asked, “Can somebody please say something? This is starting to creep me out.”

  They still did not speak.

  Bouncing my knees, I looked wide eyed from one to the other.

  “Come on, guys. Please say something.”

  Mr. Flores cleared his throat. “We will start the conversation when we feel it would be beneficial. This is going to be on our timeframe, in our ball court, and completely not yours. Is that clear?”

  My mouth went dry and my stomach fell to my toes. I nodded slowly, afraid to speak out loud.

  Mr. Flores waited a moment and then continued. “It is very saddening to learn that you have so many falsehoods under your belt. I can see that this has become a way of life for you. I assure you that will not continue under our guidance. We will not accept anything less than the pure unadulterated truth, do you understand?”

  I nodded again.

  “I need verbal confirmation.”

  “Oh! Yes, sir, I won’t tell any more lies.”

  “Including lies by omission? We cannot read minds, so we need to know you are going to tell us if you are having an issue or need. Clear?”

  I nodded again and then caught myself. “I mean, yes, sir. Totally open and honest.”

  “Now that we have an understanding on that topic, let's move forward to the lies that you told us tonight. And for that matter, since we arrived at The Chalet. Some of them completely unnecessary even for your needs, and others just saddening that you would feel the need to lie at all. If I remember correctly, when we arrived, my wife asked you if the sheets were clean—she did not ask if they had been changed today. Yet, you felt the need to say that they had been. You told us a lie about your family situation, again for no reason.”

  Mrs. Flores cut in here. “Adelaide, is there a reason that you lie so much? Are you scared of something? Does it make you feel better?”

  I swallowed and shrugged. “I dunno.”

  Mrs. Flores’ eyebrows shot up. “I’m going to need a better answer than ‘dunno’.”

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t really know how it started. I was in high school the first time I really remember making up stories about my home life and myself. My family was very conservative, and I didn’t want people to treat me weird because of my parents’ religion. So, I just started making up stories. At home and at school. It didn’t seem like it was hurting anyone, and it made my life a lot easier. I guess I never stopped.”

  Mrs. Flores nodded. “So, you’ve been living an untruthful life for years. Do you want to stop lying?”

  I thought about it for a second. “I guess so. I hadn’t really thought about it much before. I know that I don’t want to lie to you guys. If I’m being honest, I don’t really feel bad when I fudge things to Mrs. Haverty or Francis because I don’t care about them. They don’t always treat me with respect, so I don’t see a lot of reason to offer them the courtesy of my honesty.”

  Mr. Flores gave me a sad look. “That’s not a very nice way to live. Only offering to others what you receive. Constantly weighing things. I think you’d be happier in life if you treated everyone with respect, kindness, and honesty. You owe it to yourself to be that type of person. You want to be someone you can be proud of.”

  I nodded. “I’d never thought about it that way. That is true. I don’t feel very proud of myself lately.”

  “We want to help you to be that kind of person, Adelaide. Someone who can stand strong and take pride in herself because she knows she is the best she can be,” Mrs. Flores said with a smile.

  I giggled nervously. “Are you going to ‘help’ me by beating my butt black and blue?”

  “Not black and blue, and we will employ other methods as well. But, yes, for lying to us you earned yourself a big spanking. And other things as well.”

  My mouth dropped open. “That’s a lot of punishment for a couple of tiny lies.”

  Mr. Flores squinted his eyes at me. “There is no such thing as a ‘tiny lie’. Also, you freely admitted that you have been lying to us since we arrived, and that you would like to stop. So, we are going to do all we can to assist you in being a good girl.”

  Nervously, I kicked my feet and clasped and unclasped my hands. “I know you said it’s in your timing, but can we start so I don’t have to sit here wondering?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I THINK SITTING IN silence is exactly what you need right now,” Mrs. Flores said, handing me a notebook and pen. “You’re going to take your chair over to that corner and write down one-hundred things that are true. They can be as simple as ‘the sky is blue’, but I expect some good truths about yourself in there as well. Once you reach one-hundred, you may call us over and we will read over them while you stay in the corner.”

  A hundred? I wanted to whine and stamp my feet. This was ridiculous. But, I didn’t want to make the spanking later worse. I dragged the chair over to the wall and slumped down. At first, I didn’t write anything, but as I sat there having my pity party, I realized I was never going to get out of there if I didn’t do what she asked, so I started writing. I started with easy stuff. Like, “The Chalet is in Switzerland.” and “Snow is cold”, but when I really got into it, I realized I had a lot of stuff to share. “I miss my brothers and sisters.” “I don’t know if God is real.” “I want to get a tattoo, but I am scared I could never go home.”

  When I reached the last one, I raised my hand and waved the paper. It was snatched away, but I don’t know who took it because when I turned to look, my head was pointed back to look at the wall. Sighing, I did just that. Stared at the wall. I hadn’t served a timeout since I was in preschool. I remembered three-year-old Addi hating timeout, and I could see why. This was literally like watching paint dry. Except the paint was already dry, so I stared at it, waiting to see if it would peel. I’d been here for at least two-hundred years now, so I was surprised the walls weren’t decaying before my eyes.

  “You can come sit with us on the couch, Adelaide.” Mrs. Flores saved me from my boredom.

  I glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes since they had sent me to write. Thirty? Seriously, that was it? I couldn’t believe it had only been half an hour.

  “Sit.” Mrs. Flores patted the couch between h
er and Mr. Flores.

  I obeyed.

  “We are very proud of your list. It’s not easy to share such deep truths, even less so with people you just met today. Good job.”

  I beamed. Her praise made my heart soar.

  “Thank you. It was really hard to come up with a whole hundred.”

  “I know, I’ve had to do it myself in the past.” She winked at me.

  My mouth gaped. I couldn’t imagine anyone forcing Mrs. Flores to do anything. She was the most dominant person I’d ever met in my life, well besides Mr. F—Oh. That must have been who made her.

  I snorted. Even with his comment earlier about her forgetting to cancel the purchases, it was so odd to see her in a submissive light.

  The submissive light didn’t last long.

  “You lied to both of us, so we are both going to discipline you for it,” she said firmly.

  My eyes widened. “I’m getting two spankings for the same thing? That’s not even fair!”

  “No, dear, you’re getting one big spanking. We will both be spanking you at the same time. But, if we had chosen to give you two separate spankings, you would have accepted it. Because you’re not in charge.”

  I was torn between my shock at the idea of both of them disciplining me at once and the feelings being told I was not in charge created in my body. Again, I was that turned on, but not in a sexual way feeling.

  “So, I’m going to lay down, and you’re both going to smack my bottom?”

  They nodded.

  “But first, you are going to take off your jeans.”

  I gaped at them.

  “You want me to strip?”

  “Just your jeans. It’s not really fair to expect us to combat with denim.”

  I thought about it for a second. There really wasn’t a good reason I didn’t want to take them off. I knew nothing weird was going to happen.

  Sighing I stepped out of my jeans and nervously tugged at my shirt.

  “I dunno what to do now.”

  They patted their laps.

  I was getting panicked at trying to figure out how this was going to work and where I was supposed to put what. But then, their words came back to me. I wasn’t in charge. If they wanted me a different way, they would tell me. Or move me themselves.

  I positioned myself with my chest across Mr. Flores and my thighs over Mrs. Flores.

  They moved me slightly, so I was touching the ground with my arms and my butt was more in the middle of the two of them.

  “Are you comfortable?” Mr. Flores asked me with a smile.

  “Umm, I guess so. But, isn’t the entire point of spankings is that they are supposed to be uncomfortable?”

  He chuckled. “What I meant was, are you going to be able to hold this position for awhile? We plan to keep you here for a good long time.”

  I gulped. “Yes, sir. I can maintain this.”

  I felt like I’d barely spoken before the first stinging smack landed. Followed by another. And another.

  At first, I was surprised that they were able to keep the same pace and intensity so well. But after about twenty spanks, it got much harder and the size of the palm much larger. I realized that Mrs. Flores had started the spanking and Mr. Flores was continuing it.

  I kicked my feet. “Owwww! I’m sorry I lied! I’ll tell you the truth from now on! I’ll tell you the truth forever!”

  But the swats didn’t stop. If anything, they got a little bit faster and harder. Before long, I couldn’t differentiate one deadly palm from the other as they spanked and spanked my rear end.

  What had begun as discomfort and some pain, quickly turned to an inferno.

  “Guys, please...” With a hitch in my voice, I pleaded for release from this god-awful position.

  They didn’t stop, but lectured as they continued their assault on my bottom.

  Mr. Flores spoke first, “Your dishonesty is not only a mark on yourself as a person, but it is hurtful to those you’re lying to. We just met you today. You had no reason to deceive us. We did not earn your distrust.”

  Mrs. Flores continued. “We are not disciplining you because it makes us feel better or that we were personally offended by your behavior. We care about you. It’s obvious that you are a caring intelligent young woman, and we want to help you to be the best you can be.”

  I began to sob. It had been so long since someone had cared about me beyond what I could do for them.

  “You don’t need to hide yourself away from the world, little one. You have so much to offer,” Mr. Flores said as he laid a final hard swat to my butt.

  I bawled as they stroked my back.

  “I won’t lie anymore, I swear. I just started and couldn’t stop! I’m so sorry,” I wailed as I sat up and put my arms around their necks.

  They held me close and rocked me slightly.

  “You are safe with us, Adelaide. I can’t wait to get to know the real you,” Mrs. Flores said as she kissed my cheek.

  I sighed happily, excited about the time we had left. “Hey, can you call me Addi?”

  They both smiled broadly. “We’ve been waiting... Addi.”

  The End

  DELIA GRACE

  Delia Grace is a mid-thirties self-proclaimed “spanko-holic”. She has inhaled books since she read her first Boxcar Children book at six years old, although her topics of interest have matured slightly since then. She lives with her husband, sister, and two daughters just outside of New York City.

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  THE KINK OF THE MAGII

  Jaye Elise

  PROLOGUE

  Viewed from just beneath the thick cloud cover, the Rust Belt town of Trentsville, Pennsylvania resembled a madman’s patchwork quilt—choppy, random, and haphazardly clustered. As it was the week before Christmas and bitterly cold, greenery was hard to come by and the landscape had taken on various shades of brown and beige, sliced up by gray, salt-crusted roadways that seemed to lead nowhere.

  The smattering of slate shingle rooftops on the dilapidated row houses and failing businesses were a sure sign that Trentsville was a town in its death throes. Once a thriving steel producer, complete with foundry jobs for the thousands of workers who kept the local banks, grocers, restaurants, and other businesses afloat, the machine shops were now in a state of perpetual hibernation and most of Main Street had been boarded up for years.

  But Trentsville wasn’t quite dead yet. And, as it was Christmastime, tiny pockets of spirit and joy—left unfazed and undeterred by hard times—hadn’t yet been snuffed out. As night claimed the already darkened alleys leading away from Main Street, a single window shone brightly into the inky blackness, a rainbow of festive lights beaming from its frame.

  It was this house in particular, and its delightfully kinky occupants, that served as the foundation for a festive tale as old as the holiday itself, yet as new and untouched as the snowdrifts that were about to blanket Trentsville. With only a week left until Christmas, the Cooper household—home to Kurt and Annie—was high on cheer and low on funds. It was a perpetual state of being for these thirty-somethings, yet little did they know that some Christmas mischief was in the air. And they were both in for a surprise that would forever change the dynamic of their relationship.

  CHAPTER ONE

  AFTER REMOVING HIS oil- and grime-laden shoes in the entryway mudroom, Kurt climbed the narrow stairwell, careful not to yank on the finicky railing. It was only a matter of time before the entire rickety contraption ripped clean out of the drywall, but it hadn’t happened yet. Like most things in their rundown little home, it was held together by a lick and a prayer.

&
nbsp; With what he earned at the shop, added to the meager salary and tips Annie pulled down at the diner, the couple lived paycheck to paycheck, so even minor repairs to the house were often unachievable. Thankfully, the railing seemed poised to survive yet another day.

  But as he opened the door from the stairwell onto the main floor, taking in the basic furnishings in the kitchen, the gently twinkling lights they’d strung around the window, and the cute, plump little brunette having it out with the microwave, Kurt wouldn’t have changed their circumstances for anything. He leaned against the doorjamb, appreciating Annie’s attempts not to curse.

  “Why, you rotten mother trucker!” She shook her fist at the contraption, putting on the airs of a true enforcer. “If you crap out on me one more time, I’m gonna throw you out the dang window. And I mean it!”

  “Damn, princess, you’re not pullin’ any punches tonight, are you?”

  “Daddy!!!” she squealed. It always warmed his soul to hear his wife call him that. “I didn’t hear you come in. Are you hungry? I brought us home some burgers and fries from Sugar’s, but the microwave’s actin’ up and I can’t get ‘em warmed up.”

  “Shh. It’s all good, baby,” he soothed her, pulling her into a hug. “Why don’t you throw ‘em in the oven while you get changed and I take my shower, and then we’ll eat in a few, yeah?”

  “Sounds great, Daddy. Welcome home. I missed you today.”

  She stretched up on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on his stubbled cheek. As she began to undo the top few buttons on her uniform, Kurt got a good look at her deep cleavage and the black lacy bra beneath. Though tired after a full day at the shop, just the slightest glimpse of her fair, creamy skin had him rock hard in his coveralls and ready to forego the shower in lieu of other more seductive pursuits. But a quick hand through his short dark hair revealed a swath of motor oil.